Raise the Standard
by Thingy Person
Summary: T isn't for Tanking. It's for Tauroneo.


_**Author: **My attempt at a fully-fledged battle sequence. This is categorised under "Parody" simply because of how much I'm magnifying this funny little aspect of the map. The writing is actually pretty serious._

_Also, no AranxTauroneo. My sincerest apologies (not)

* * *

_Isn't it absolutely frustrating when the enemy commander is ripe for the taking, but you can't get past this _one guy_? The Begnion militia learned this the hard way.

The liberation army had been focusing all their units to the north, leaving what seemed to be an opening on the western bridge. It had seemed so simple to Commander Laverton. Just lead a bunch of cavalry units over the bridge and nip it in the bud. What a shock it was when they told him all six of them were dead. Not injured, just dead. Was there an ambush? Did they use siege weapons? No. There was just this one guy. _One guy..._

General Tauroneo, a blinding light among the ebony-clad soldiers, the tattered remnants of an enslaved country. He alone stood on that bridge, a silver lance in hand, and slaughtered a platoon of knights like cattle. At first, they thought their eyes were playing tricks on them. It was like a mirage, a phantom of the purest white that appeared in their path. One of them casted a javelin. It was stopped in its tracks, but the white apparition didn't move, the object still sticking out of it. A white rock, perhaps? It was hard to discern, with the blazing sun reflected into their eyes. Only when thy tried to lead their horses around it did the white formation strike. A silver lance struck as if from the heavens themselves, and the knights fell one by one, though all at once is also a good description. And yet, their demise could only be attributed to skill. The imposing figure on the bridge was an armored Daein soldier, a general to be precise, but no more. Before any of them realised just how ordinary that thing was that had just overwhelmed them, they lay on the ground, motionless. All thanks to this one guy.

But Laverton had a level head on his shoulders. A general is but one man, and one man is bound to fall. One platoon for the mutineers would suffice. Burdened with prisoners, they would fall prey to Begnion's might, and they too would realise their mistake. As it would appear, one _can_ be too late in learning that one shouldn't oppose Begnion. A fancy general on a bridge was no exception, he contemplated. With this is mind, he sent a second platoon of mounted units to deal with it, now armed with bows and enchanted swords. Full of hubris, the second wave rode out and halted before crossing the bridge, deeming themselves safe to attack from a distance.

One of the bowmen fired an arrow out of curiosity. For a moment, the distinguished sound of platinum grinding against platinum was heard, as the statue made a brisk move and caught the arrow in the very middle of his magnificent shield. The platoon captain sent forth a razor-sharp wave of magic with his Wind Edge, but the General did not flinch. Another bowman moved to the right to try and trick the great shield at an angle, but again, the white apparition made a sharp turn and caught the arrow where the last one had been. It is on this moment that one knight saw his chance to cross the bridge, thinking the General preoccupied. But again, in one smooth motion, he found himself dismounted and at the mercy of the General's lance. For a few last heartbeats, the knight was confronted with the sheer mortal humanity of his raptor, defeated by seizoned professionalism rather than otherworldlypowers. And then he felt terror for this fellow human being, more than he had held possible. A few moments later, the fallen knight's javelin was driven through the platoon captain's heart. The bowmen fled.

To be fair, General Tauroneo wasn't entirely impassable. If only the bridge had been a tiny bit less wide, he would've been. Sooner or later, the Begnions would get their act together and force their way through. To his delight, he heard the flapping of reptilian wings. Perched atop her wyvern, Jill descended to relay the General a message.

"The Marados have gotten through safely." _That means the northern front is being engaged._

"Who's defending the northern bridge?", Tauroneo replied.

"Zihark and the Dawn Brigade. They're doing a great job, too. We've made no mistake recruiting them." It seemed time to take the offensive. "General, would you kindly rejoin with the main unit up north so we can commence an assault? This route is uphill and guarded with ballistae."

"I see... But I'm not done here", he replied, noticing a third platoon take off. One of them was holding a hammer. This could be trouble. "Is there any way you could spare reinforcements?"

Before an answer could be given, a lancer stepped forward to Tauroneo's left. He was an unimposing man with an iron lance who appeared no different from any other soldier. Behind him was a priest, a little girl holding a common healing staff. For reinforcements, this was lackluster. But the soldier's armor appeared to be of a slightly darker hue than that of the other soldiers. "What's your name?", the General inquired.

"A-Aran, Sir. I came with the Dawn Brigade."

"Ah, I see." When a group of independant warriors came to the Liberators' aid a few days ago, among them was a lancer in Begnion armor. To discern him from the rest of the army, he was given a differently colored suit of armor. While his military training probably hadn't been any better than that of the knights he was about to battle, Aran had notable potential, and potential is best cultivated through experience rather than training. That must've been why Aran was sent to help the General. Aran looked in the priest's direction. The priest nodded reassuringly. Jill took off to the north.

"So, are you up for it?", the General asked. Aran slumped slightly. "Truth to be told, there's a million places I'd rather be. This doesn't feel the slightest bit like my training."

Tauroneo grinned behind his helmet. So typical for new recruits. "I'll help you through it, is that encouraging enough?" Aran shrugged.

Tauroneo began laying out the plan. "Alright, while this is hardly comforting, the enemy will recognise me as a stronger target and go after you instead." Aran nodded, albeit uncomfortable. "When they ride in to attack you, I'll try to disarm or disorient them, and then you impale them. Is that clear to you?"

"I-I suppose...but what if they attack with bows?"

"You have a shield, private. It's far more helpful than its size leads you to think. I, for one, have no need of a shield this big." Aran's suspicions had been confirmed. "By the way, how do you fare against magic?"

Aran let out a fatigued sigh, looking for the proper words. "About as well as I fare against other attacks, Sir."

"You should be alright then. And if you sustain injury..." He glanced over to the priest. She returned a gesture expressing duty. Contented that everything was in order, the General assumed a proper battle stance. Aran mimicked him. "One last thing; one of them is carrying a Hammer, and will likely try to injure me with it. If you would..." "Of course, General."

Although Aran wasn't so ambitious as to desire fighting on the frontlines along with the greatest living general of Daein, he caught himself feeling honoured to be tutored by none other than Captain Meatshield himself. Aran had deemed himself somewhat useful to the Dawn Brigade (while he was, in fact, crucial), but after seeing Tauroneo in action that time in the desert, he had mentally slapped himself for deeming himself more than an ordinary soldier. Yet here he was, receiving instructions from that same legend, as though he was picked out for a reason.

So there they stood, the palest white and the darkest black side by side, one far outshining the other, but complimenting one another nontheless. Aran broke a sweat as the first wave rode toward them.

"Here they come!", shouted Tauroneo. Stating the painfully obvious often helps reduce fear. There were six, as before; a lance knight up front, an axe and the hammer following and two swordsmen behind. Finally, a bowman trailed the group, likely one of the knights who fled earlier. After discerning the two shapes (that didn't require much effort), the lancer went straight for Aran, attempting to overrun him. Aran felt like panicking, but held up his act with some effort. Tauroneo swung his lance and shattered the incoming lance in the blink of an eye. "Now, impale!"

Aran did as he was told, and thrust his lance into the mounted knight. The adrenaline rushed through his body. The horse staggered, causing the unsuspecting hammer knight to ram into it. Aran flung his body backwards and managed to miraculously sidestep the two falling horses. The knight was crushed in between them. Tauroneo dispatched the axer with little effort, making sure not to block with his lance (an axe to a lance leads to a sorrowfully broken weapon), instead taking the hit, which caused nothing more than a slight dent in the General's platinum armor. With an elegant sweep, both knight and steed were flung into the water. Aran hopped over the horses, amazed at his own work, and resumed his battle stance. The two sword knights applied next. "You block, then you thrust!", was the General's advice. Aran raised his shield as one of the knights caused his horse to stagger, attempting to strengthen the blow when the horse comes back down. Aran skillfully parried the hit, as he had learned in Begnion's training camps, and impaled the knight. When he looked to his left, he noticed that the General had done the exact same thing. Now only the bowman remained. In a last-ditch attempt to harm the soldier, he launched an arrow. Aran shrunk behind his shield and caught the arrow, likely due to sheer luck. A moment later, he felt his lance being swiped off him. Tauroneo used it as a makeshift javelin; his aim was dead on.

Laura appeared behind Aran, clearly unsettled by the sudden excitement. "Oh Aran, are you injured?"

"Urk...cramps..." Tauroneo rolled his eyes as the priest relieved Aran of his dire predicament. After that, Aran gestured towards his empty hands.

"Well, sorry about that. You can borrow mine for the remainder of the battle." He offered his tridental lance to Aran. "It's made of silver."

Aran's expression was one of shock. "S-silver? You use silver weapons in combat?!"

"Stop stammering, Aran. All it takes to keep it in one piece is a bit of consideration for your equipment. It becomes second nature the longer you use the same lance." Aran hesistantly took the lance. "Try to stab only with the middle dent, and use the other two for swings.

"How much does it cost?", Aran asked, his face adorned with genuine worry. Tauroneo laughed.

"We'll work out the details when you break it, private." Aran nodded in a sullen manner, knowing he had no choice.

However, there was no platoon riding in to attack them, only a sole knight. Tauroneo realised the Main Unit had been attacking all this time. "Well, Aran, this seems to be the last of them." Aran felt a mix of relief and disappointment.

Meanwhile, the knight was weighing out his possibilities. All he had was a ceremonial sword, and he had expected the bridge to be crossed by now. He was determined not to turn back, as such an action would hurt his knightly pride, but he knew things were looking bleak. Dawdle too long and the other Daeins would catch up with him before he'd manage to escape. However, upon realising that the General was unarmed, the knight took a sprint through memory lane. Reliving the most basic rule of his military training, the knight foolishly attacked Tauroneo, and received a swift dose of forged silver through his throat. Aran took a deep breath as the last warrior fell to the ground.

Tauroneo broke the silence that followed. "Alright then, that concludes our battle for today."

Aran's head snapped up. "It's over already?", he blurted, with the naïvété of a schoolboy.

"That was Commander Laverton, Aran."

Aran's expression changed in an almost comical way. He had finished off the enemy commander, and on his first real battle, no less!

"I'd say that was a fine display of finesse, private."

Aran smirked. "I learned from the best."

* * *

_I just felt like writing something that starred Aran. He's one of the most fun characters to train in RD, simply because he looks exactly like a normal soldier._

_EDIT: There's no Aran category?! BLASPHEMY  
_


End file.
